


Sandstorm

by capt_eli



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Character Study, Gen, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capt_eli/pseuds/capt_eli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaan's always had a special connection to the desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandstorm

**I.**

The night is cool and quiet as the newborn takes his first breath. He screams and clutches his mother’s fingers, calming in her arms. His brother peeks at him curiously and touches his tiny hands.

“What’s his name?”

Their father lays a kiss on both wife and child, pulling his older boy into his lap.

“Vaan.”

Out in the desert, a small group of travelers takes shelter for the night. They can’t think of a time when the sands felt more peaceful.

**II.**

Vaan runs through the dunes of the Estersand, breathless and giddy. His parents never allow him to go into the desert alone, and even with Reks by his side, he can only go to the outpost and back. But the shop always got a surge of business just before the rains and with Reks trying to help out, everyone was too busy to notice Vaan slipping out and racing to the gate.

The boy never could explain why he wanted to explore the desert so badly. Since the first time he saw it through the gates, it felt like something he needed. After the first time his foot touched the sand, he knew once would never be enough.

He runs the final stretch to a cliffside and collapses in its shade. He closes his eyes and feels the warm sand between his fingers, against his back, in his hair. There’s something infinitely welcoming about it. Sometimes, if Vaan focuses hard enough, he thinks he can feel the sand breathe.

There’s a cool breeze coming from the south and Vaan dozes.

**III.**

Saurians are not supposed to be this far west. _They hate the sandstorms_ , Vaan remembers.

He presses himself closer to the rock face and tries to quiet his breathing. The saurian’s booming steps nearly shake the ground. Each one feels closer than the last, just on the other side of the outcrop. Vaan clutches his dagger tightly, a curved mythril blade that he received for his thirteenth birthday only a month ago. He knows it’s no good against the leather-hided beast, but it’s a small comfort.

Vaan tries to think. He can’t outrun it, not all the way back to the city. He can’t fight it off, either. Tears sting his eyes. He should have listened to Reks, should have never come this far, should have—

Two thunderous steps sound one after the other and the saurian is looking right at the boy. The beast opens it toothy jaws and roars at him. Vaan can’t stop the scream that tears out of his throat.

Suddenly the day’s lazy breeze picks up to a nearly violent wind, kicking up sand and dust toward the great reptile. Its roar is cut short and it shakes its head, still advancing. Vaan scrambles backwards until he falls. He can’t stop the tears now, but the wind grows stronger still, whipping his hair about and throwing sand at the saurian. It tosses its huge head again and huffs twice before turning away and running east.

Vaan can do nothing but sit and listen to the saurian’s footsteps fade away in the howling wind.

**IV.**

When Reks dies, Vaan doesn’t speak for three days. The desert rages in a storm unlike any other.

**V.**

The winds are vicious. Sand scratches their skin and stings in their eyes. The storm had begun before they could make it to shelter, leaving them in the middle of the desert without a single inkling of which direction to go. Basch is suffering the most, fresh from the pits of Nalbina and into a new kind of hell. Balthier supports most of his weight, shouting to be heard over the roaring storm.

“You can’t find a way out?”

Fran squints this way and that, ears oversensitive in the flying sand and noise. “I can’t!”

Balthier coughs roughly and thinks of the handkerchief he so willingly handed over to the girl. It would only be a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Instead, he tucks his nose and mouth into the crook of his elbow and covers Basch’s face with the same arm. If this man dies here and they broke him out for no good reason, he swears he’ll—

“This way!”

Vaan is waving wildly and pointing in some direction. “Come on, hurry!” He nearly disappears into the swirling sandstorm and Balthier tries calling to him, cut off by another dry cough. Fran steps in between, acting as a marker for Balthier to follow. He is slowed by the ex-captain, but Vaan seems to take that into consideration, or is just as slowed by the storm itself. After a few agonizing minutes, the storm begins to thin. Soon, he can see the rock face of the cliffs bordering the desert. This time Vaan really does disappear, and Fran turns back to help the other two cross the last few feet before sliding into the narrow crevasse. It opens up into a small cave, deep enough into the rock to keep out the worst of the sand.

Basch collapses against the wall and gives a few wracking coughs before going quiet. Fran starts shaking sand out of her hair and ears and Balthier just sits and blesses the sand free air. Stale and stifling, but sand free, Gods bless it. He looks to the boy, leaning against the wall with his eyes shut. He’s almost smiling.

Balthier clears his throat but it seems to do nothing for the grit in his voice. “Did you know this was here?”

Vaan opens his eyes and sits up a little. “Huh? Oh, no, I didn’t.”

“How did you see it?” They’re all a bit surprised when Basch speaks; less so when it sends him into another coughing fit.

The boy shrugs. “I dunno. The storm just kind of cleared for a second and I saw it.”

**VI.**

Vaan can’t explain the feeling he gets when he first sees the sand. Not relief—there’s nothing to be relieved of. Not recognition—he’s certainly never seen this place before. It’s just a strange sense of comfort he feels. He digs his bare toes into the sand and closes his eyes. He could almost pretend he were home if it weren’t for the sound of crashing waves and the smell of salt on the cool air.

He never thought he was homesick. He didn’t think of home much at all except to worry fleetingly about Migelo and Kytes and the other kids. Vaan’s sure they’re doing fine without him stirring up trouble. Penelo agrees and they laugh.

The sand is familiar but at the same time, not. _Sand is sand_ , he thinks. Part of him still craves the dry dust of his desert.

His desert. He’s never thought that before. It feels right.

**VII.**

Vaan has his own ship now, his pride and joy. She flies high and fast, cutting through the air, racing as fast as Vaan’s heart. On hearing the news, Balthier joked, “The skies are yours!” Vaan feels like they are. When he’s in the air he feels alive and true. Freer than a bird.

But every bird needs a nest. Vaan is more than happy to return to his at every chance. The sky is his but he had the desert first, and that will always be his home.

**VIII.**

“Oh, Vaan’s always been like that. You hear stories about people getting lost or hurt in the desert, but not Vaan. He knows it like the back of his hand. Like he was born knowing the desert.”

**IX.**

“It’s impressive. And it makes you wonder…”

**X.**

“He doesn’t simply enjoy the desert, he reveres it. I’ve not seen anything quite like it.”

**XI.**

“That boy is a sandstorm in human form, I say. He’s like to blow you away if you’re not careful.”

**XII.**

“Viera have the Wood. The boy has the desert.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an idea I had a long time ago, basically that the desert is alive in some way and cares for Vaan, like the Wood and the viera.
> 
> The end is meant to be the other party members talking about Vaan. I hope it's apparent who is who, and I hope it wasn't too weird to read.


End file.
